4th of July musings

Taking life one day at a time isn't easy, especially when you are a chronic planner as I am. I have my calenders, my lists and Outlook to keep my life and my family's lives organized and in control. Yes, I even have a giant wipe off calendar on my refrigerator that is color coded for each family member. I have to laugh when I update each month because it is baffling to me as to how and when this transformation occurred? My mother was NEVER like this.  She was a myriad of disorganization and tardiness.

The point of this is to say that as I look to my calendars for comfort in keeping life in control, I really have no control over anything really. I plan and execute each day, week and month, yet my heart still aches for the loss of my eldest son. I pick up the blue marker, his favorite color, and sigh. I could throw the blasted thing away, but what is a rainbow or even a calender without blue? These are the choices he has made.

Then the what-ifs start creeping in. What if I had studied more? Understood him more? Listened better? Defended him more? Got angry less? Was less judgmental? What if...all those things and more?  Would my behaviors have changed anything? Would he have chosen a different path? A life worth living? I may never know. The trajectory is set and all said and done, well, at least until he decides to change his path. I pray each day that he finds his way back to God, to a life of sobriety and good choices as well as to his family who loves him so.

As holidays approach, I reflect on the sweet memories, ache, grieve and move on. While I used to fight the inevitable, I find myself amidst this "process" that has become so familiar, almost comfortable. I have spent nearly 2 of each holiday without my boy, and each one brings memories of good times, the ache of missing him, and grief, in a myriad of stages. As we approach the 4th of July, I recall my own wonderful childhood memories of picnics at my Grandma's, fireworks over Lake Erie, friends and the festival in Conneaut, OH.  I then recall my own children and the fun 4ths we have had watching fireworks, picnicking, bonfires and fun. Ah, how I miss my silly, goofy, fun-loving Chrissy. I ache for him, our talks, his goofy antics, his insight. All gone. I know that if he were to walk in the door today, he would not be the same. He is forever changed by his choices and it is now up to him and God to bring him to life again.

Today, while I rest in my ache, my grief, that I have become so accustomed, I see my beautiful husband and my precious children, laughing and joking with each other. It is with them that I see my life, my love, my future. So, amidst my own fragility, I get out my markers and update the family calendar. "Happy 4th of July", it says in red, white & yes, blue fireworks with all the ache and joy a mother's heart can hold.